


Bitter Companion

by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna)



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tears_of_nienna/pseuds/The%20Librarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lagertha sends Athelstan to find Bjorn after the end of "A King's Ransom." (Please see notes for possible triggers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Companion

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Miscarriage

Athelstan saw Siggy step out of the hall. "Where is Lagertha?" he asked. "Has something happened?"

"The baby..." Siggy said.

Athelstan's eyes widened. "Is it born?"

"It is dead."

The news hit him like a blow, driving the breath from him. " _No_ \--"

Siggy's voice was calm, but her eyes reflected her sorrow. "It happens. You would not know it, but it has happened to nearly all of us. She is lucky that the baby did not kill her, too."

A voice called from inside, high and tight with pain. "Siggy? Who is there?"

"Your priest," she said. "I will send him away."

"No. Bring him in."

She peered into the hall. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Siggy opened the door and let Athelstan walk inside.

The room was dim. Lagertha sat against the bed's carved wooden headboard, pale and trembling but upright. There was blood on the sheets, but Athelstan could not look away from her eyes. He had never seen such pain in them before. "What can I do?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and curled her hands into fists, as though to steady them. "Gyda is here, but I have not seen Bjorn. Not since he went to fetch the midwife. Will you find him for me, Athelstan?"

"Of course," he said.

"Bring him here. Bring my- my son to me," she said, her voice catching and cracking on the words.

"I will, my lady." Athelstan turned away, unable to bear the sight of Lagertha's grief.

* * *

Bjorn was not in the town, and no one Athelstan spoke to had seen him. He widened his search to the fields and the pastures, but there was no sign of him there, either.

On a hill above Kattegat was a grove in which shrines had been built to honor the Norse gods. Townsfolk often came there to make offerings and give thanks.

Now there was a noise coming from the grove, a sound like chopping firewood. Athelstan stepped into the clearing in time to see Bjorn's dull practice sword swing forward, cutting into the carved wood of an idol. He might have been doing so all morning; the wood was so scarred that Athelstan could scarcely tell which god or goddess it had represented.

Bjorn worked the sword free of the idol's shoulder only to swing it again, biting deep into the soft wood of its head this time.

"Bjorn? What are you doing?"

He snarled and yanked the sword free again. "Frigg is supposed to protect children when they're born. She was supposed to _protect my brother_! She should have brought him into this world, not taken him away before he was even born. It isn't _fair_!" He kicked at the idol, but it did not fall.

"Bjorn."

He sheathed his sword and spun around, shoving Athelstan aside. "Go away, priest."

"I can't. Your mother sent me to find you. She is worried."

Bjorn bit down on a sob, too late to hide it, and fell to his knees. "I can't go back there."

"We have to." Athelstan knelt next to Bjorn. "I am sorry for what happened."

"What does being _sorry_ do? It cannot bring my brother back."

"No," Athelstan said softly. "No, it can't."

Bjorn sniffed. "It's my fault. I didn't bring the midwife fast enough."

"It is _not_ your fault, Bjorn. No one is to blame for this." Once, not long ago, he would have spoken of God's purpose, of faith and trust. But what purpose could there be, for the look in Lagertha's eyes? For a child, already so cherished, to be taken away? Athelstan looked at the scarred idol and wondered if he might not have done the same, if it were his mother in pain, or his brother lost.

"I was going to teach him how to fight," Bjorn said. "I was making him a little wooden sword, and a shield, and now he'll never use them." Finally overcome with grief, Bjorn turned to the only person he could. He buried his face against Athelstan's shoulder and wept. Athelstan wrapped his arms around the boy and held him as he cried.

And if he shed a few tears of his own, there was none but the battered goddess to see.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the tenth-century Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Wanderer." _Who bears it, knows what a bitter companion / Shoulder to shoulder, sorrow can be_. My favorite translation can be found [here](http://thelibrarina.tumblr.com/post/47433583949/and-now-let-us-have-some-awesome-anglo-saxon).
> 
> Thanks to [Ponyquotesoftheday](http://ponyquotesoftheday.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for making sure I was targeting the right Norse deity.


End file.
